San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1887-09-13


turn, nor In any way betrayed how she
would, welcome II. II tried TO draw her TO
speak of him, she answered, with quiet
ness almost amounting TO restraint, always
In the same dead voice. l knew this was
morbid unhealthy state, and lOnged even
for return of her old petulance. But she
passed her days, and walked and talked, ap-
parently only half knowing what she did,
half conscious and wholly callOus. Her sis
tiers never noticed this strange phase. Hilda
had wrapped herself in her impenetrable
pride, concentrated on her own plans; An
mis- was too happy, full Of dreams of Uric
and her future; and l was even yet little
better than a stranger, ignorant Of her past
life. entitled TO none Of her confidence.
My thoughts, too, were very busy with my
own life. was going home very soon, and
Gilbert was preparing for an early marriage;
and was very happy in his love, very peace
full and glad In my great unmerited for
tune, very thankful to Heaven for good
mans love.
had no fear OF Hilda since Gwendoline
had known her threat | thought she would
and could do no more, and l so shrank from
deepening disuniOn In the family that did
not tell Gilbert what she had said Ii was
nothing to me whether St Gabrel's Grange
was mine or Gilbert's, seeing that nothing
could part us.
One Sunday evening Annis and Hilda had
gone TO the village church, and Gwendoline
and were alone together.
She had not been well all the day. plead
ing headache, and she sat now silently in
her low armchair. book in her hand, but
its pages never turned. had been writing
to my mother: and. when finished the let
ter, turned 10 Gwendoline and offered to
read to her. A sting of self-reproach shot
through me for not having offered sooner
for doing so little To relieve her main. as
saw how terribly white her face was. how
heavy were her hazel ewes The dull black
dress and tba darI vaIyet chair intensified
her pallor and the red-gold hair. turned
back from the broad forehead sbone bright
er by contrast
Have You finished your letter. Viola?,
she said. Eyes, read to me. talk to me, any
thing to shut out the sound OF the wind. |
cannot bear TO hear il whispering among the
trees.n
The wind was moaning round the old
house and among the fir-trees, for IL was a
gusty autumn night. and now and again the
windows shook, and the leaves ratified
against the long easements as they whirled
about on the terrace
'Shall l read the book YOU haye?r asked
She turned to the title-page to see what it
was.
Anything YOU like. But no-do not read
Talk to me, Viola; tell me about your home
and your brothers and sisters. One cannot
be interested in imaginary people"
told her what thought she might care
for of quiet Cloisterham, and Edward and
Grace who was so pretty, and Barbara who
was so clever and of Edwards wedding
and his pleasant new home.
She made no comment or remark. and |
did not know whether or not she was heed
ing my chatter. But, when paused, she
sighed.
You seem to have had such peaceful
happy lfe," she said quietly. Giving so
pleasantly in your fathers RectOry. sup
pose that sort of life makes people good.
When you are poor, you do not do as we do
to get rich. Perhaps, if had lived your
life instead of my own, should have been
good"
II wish were at all good cried, think
ing of Gilbert, and wishing l were more
worthy of him.
with me-" she went on. cit has been so
inherent L nave peeh worldly among
WOriuiy people ever since can remember.
tiilhK might nave Oeeh Oetter II any one
nuns IN tIe carry 1ayS hau cared 10 MAKE me 50.
NltLi NY schoOlllilstlGSS at School anu my
aunt at nome inc teacillig was tiie SaIlleI
must strive 10 Oe aulhileu' DO admired tIat
49,, hilsnt marry we'll marry wen 70 nnahe
the worIu thiiik wen oi me- Anu was au,
nilreui lveu iUr aGhiralLoh' anu married